


The Antonym of Philtre

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Don't copy to another site, Drugged Dick Grayson, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, gonna singlehandedly make that a tag, jason Todd is a good bro, no beta we typo like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Dick hadn't even wanted togoto this gala.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622032
Comments: 50
Kudos: 838





	The Antonym of Philtre

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Drugged" on my Batman Bingo card!!! For the anon who requested it ^~^
> 
> **Warnings: this fic is literally all about Dick getting slipped a roofie at a gala. Nothing happens, but there's suggestive stuff said. If any of this triggers you, please avoid.** I've rated it M just in case.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own DC ^~^

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

Dick hadn’t been to a gala in _years_. At first it was because he and Bruce weren’t speaking, and then it was some sort of excuse to get out of them, whether it was being on duty or a mission with the team, or even ‘I can’t, B, I gotta clean my apartment’.

But this time, Bruce had somehow conned him into being at the Manor the day there was a gala being held. Dick had no idea how he hadn’t seen it coming, because Damian had complained to him just that week about being fitted for a suit.

Dick tugged at the sleeve of his tuxedo and grimaced. Alfred, from where he was fixing Tim’s cuffs, gave him a look.

“Perhaps if you had been more willing to participate in family events, Master Dick, you would find the clothing more fitted to your body,” he said.

Dick exhaled loudly. “I still don’t see why I have to go,” he said.

Tim snorted. “How old are you, again?”

Dick glowered at him. “I was _free_ , Timmy! I watched tabloid footage of you guys suffering while I was sitting at home stuffing myself with ice cream straight from the tub in pyjamas. It’s even worse now than it used to be.”

Tim looked a breath away from rolling his eyes skyward. “Least you have us there for entertainment now. It’s not _that_ bad. There’s free food.”

“You’re rich,” Dick said. “We’re all rich. What do we need free food for?”

Tim shrugged. “It’s the principle of the idea, is all.” He nudged Dick’s shoulder. “Quit being so pessimistic. You might get permanent frown wrinkles, and then where would we be.”

* * *

The one upside to this night was that Jason was apparently going to be making an entrance at some point. The only ones who knew this were Tim, Alfred, and Cass. Cass had at some point told Damian, who had then told Dick.

None of them mentioned it to Bruce.

Dick was willing to suffer through four hours of the fakest party he’d ever been to in his adult life if it meant getting to see Jason, in his words, “stir shit up”.

He smiled and exchanged pleasantries with Bruce’s social circle, shaking hands with old men and pretending to kiss the cheeks of old women. He ignored when he heard people talk in hushed voices about his choice of career and lack of university education.

“Enjoying yourself?” Bruce asked, appearing at Dick’s elbow.

“Yup,” Dick said, popping the ‘p’. “Finally remembering how much I love these things.” There was a stark difference between how people had acted around him when they’d thought he’d be the heir to Wayne Enterprises, and now, when it was clear that he was probably second last on the list, and by personal choice at that.

Bruce didn’t get a chance to reply before they were flocked by a group of people who were giggling far too loudly.

“Brucie!” a woman simpered. “You didn’t introduce us to this dashing young fellow.”

Beside him, Bruce let out his own light-hearted chuckle. He patted Dick on the shoulder, gripping it tight and shaking him a little. “Clarissa, you remember my eldest, of course.”

Clarissa let out the most dramatic gasp Dick had ever witnessed. “Richard, wasn’t it? You've grown!”

Dick smiled. “I go by Dick. Pleasure to meet you…”

“Call me Clarissa.” The woman was undoubtedly ten years older than Dick, nearing around Bruce’s age. Dick could smell the powder on her face.

Dick glanced at his watch; three hours to go. Dick was going to strangle Jason if he didn’t get here soon _._ He finally ditched Clarissa and her group of friends, getting as far away from Bruce and his apparently magnetic presence as he could.

“Sandwich?” Cass said, appearing beside Dick suddenly. In her hand was a tiny plate, piled with even smaller sandwiches.

“Thanks.” Dick smiled at her as he shovelled three into his mouth at once. “I’m starving.”

“We always raid the kitchen when we get home.”

Dick didn’t have to ask who ‘we’ was. She and Tim had always been close, a bond that came from living together and being approximately the same age. They were tight in a way that Dick had never been with any of his siblings, would never be because he’d been raised mostly as an only child.

“And to think Tim comes here because of the food.”

Cass shrugged. “They have good avocado.”

She flitted away then, leaving the plate of sandwiches with Dick, who finished them all within seconds.

Not even a moment after his plate had been cleared, a couple of things happened simultaneously.

A waiter came by to grab Dick’s plate. Dick gaped as Jason winked at him, and was about to say something (along the lines of _“you’re legally alive now; how the_ fuck _can you get away with this shit?”_ ) when someone waltzed up to him.

It took Dick a moment to pull his eyes away from Jason’s smug face.

“Mr Grayson,” the voice said. It belonged to a man probably around Dick’s age, perhaps a few years older. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

“Please, call me Dick,” Dick said on autopilot.

The man nodded, looking at Dick unblinkingly with hooded lids. “Andrew,” he offered. Dick found it odd that there was no surname attached to it – in these circles, people traded in last names. Perhaps he was a plus one.

Andrew stopped a passing waiter, carrying a tray of champagne, and grabbed two glasses.

“Here,” he said, offering one to Dick.

Dick accepted it, resisting the urge to shiver at the slimy feeling of the other man’s fingers when their hands brushed.

“Need all the drinks I can get to make it through these,” Andrew said, taking a delicate sip. He had at some point led them to the very back of the ballroom. Andrew slipped out into the hallway now, tugging at his collar. “God, it’s stuffy as hell in there.

Dick chuckled, taking another sip. “Not a fan of galas?”

“God, no. Then again,” words emphasised with a sly glance at Dick, “I haven’t been a gala with anyone like you.”

Dick barely registered the words, because at that moment, he felt a giant swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach, a wild sense of vertigo that he’d last felt as a child who hadn’t yet mastered the trapeze. He reached a hand out, blindly searching for something to help him balance.

Andrew caught his arm. “C’mon, you need to sit down somewhere. I’m sure this mansion has a room we can use.”

There was a hidden meaning in his words that Dick’s brain was suddenly too slow to decipher. He stumbled over his own feet, the tips of his polished shoes dragging on the ground. Andrew wrapped an arm around his waist, breath suddenly too close to Dick’s neck.

“Almost there,” Andrew crooned. “Have I told you how positively _delicious_ you look? I wasn’t completely truthful earlier, when I said I’d never been to a gala with you present. I’ve had my eye on you for _ages_ , and when I saw you here tonight, after so long, well… you can’t blame me for not resisting.”

Andrew was practically carrying Dick forward by now. He grunted under the weight; Dick, although with one of the slightest figures in their family and even career path, was still made up of muscle.

_“Dick?”_ someone said in an incredulous tone from… somewhere. Dick felt relief wash over him at the sound of Jason’s voice.

“He’s not feeling very well,” Andrew said smoothly. “I was taking him somewhere quiet.”

“Like hell you were,” Jason said, every word wrapped in layers of white hot fury. “Put him down.” When Andrew hesitated, he barked, _“Now!”_

Dick was placed on the ground in reckless abandon, crumpling to the floor now that there was nothing holding him up but doing his best to stay awake.

Jason had a gun trained at Andrew, who had his hands held up.

“Look, man,” Andrew’s voice was shaky, “I didn’t even _do_ anything. He felt dizzy, so I was taking him inside—”

“If you don’t want a fucking hole through your brain, you’ll shut up,” Jason said.

“Jay, no,” Dick wheezed. He didn’t even know if the words had made it until Jason’s eyes flicked over to him.

“I’ll find you,” Jason said to Andrew. “I don’t want to beat you up in front of him, because he’d feel _guilty_ about it, but I _will_ find you. And I better not see you hanging around here.”

He flicked his gun in a gesture that said _leave_ , and Andrew scampered away.

Jason was beside Dick in a second, eyeing him carefully. “Dickie?” he said. “You still with me?”

Dick hadn’t even realised his eyes had fallen shut at some point. “Mmm,” he managed. “Th’nks. F’r not…”

Jason’s eyes darkened. “Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered, hauling Dick up. “Tell me if you’re gonna hurl, a’ight? Or at least try to avoid hitting me.”

“No promises.” Dick’s feet were uncoordinated as they stumbled to stay with Jason, and even then, Jason was carrying most of Dick’s weight. “’S lucky,” Dick said, blinking to keep his head up.

“What?”

“That you’re so fucking _muscly_. ‘F you were as scrawny as y’ used t’ be, there’s no way y’ could carry me.”

Jason didn’t respond. Dick, with great effort, lifted his head up to make sure Jason hadn’t gone quiet at the mention of _before_ – and of course Dick would thank Jason by throwing his Robin years in his face – but Jason had his phone out and was typing rapidly.

“Kid me had muscle,” he said distractedly, brow furrowed as he texted with his non-dominant hand. “Coulda dragged your _still scrawny_ ass all over the place.”

Dick huffed slightly in response, too focused on staying upright to bother with continuing the banter.

“Car’s coming round soon,” Jason told him.

A sudden spike of panic hit Dick, and with more energy than he’d had since he’d been roofied, he said, “Were you talking to B?”

Jason sighed. “Dunno if he saw the messages, but it was on the group chat you made me join.”

Dick almost smiled. “The fam’ly one?”

Jason grunted in affirmation. “Damn thing won’t let me leave it. I get hit with spam from Tim and Cass every fucking day.”

Dick didn’t tell him that Tim had been the one to screw around in the programming to ensure that Jason stayed locked in.

There was a chime from Jason’s phone, and suddenly Dick was moving. He must’ve zoned out at some point, because the next time he opened his eyes, he was slung over Jason’s shoulder.

He was going to throw up.

“Jay,” he gasped, thumping Jason’s back with his free hand.

Jason stopped abruptly, putting Dick back down just as Dick lost the battle with his stomach. Jason tilted his torso to the side, and Dick threw up the meagre contents of his stomach on thick green grass, dry heaving when there was nothing left.

After a moment, Jason crouched down beside him. “You good?”

Dick nodded, and he was yanked up. Jason waited a moment to make sure he wouldn’t be sick again, before slinging one of Dick’s arms around his shoulder and wrapping his own around Dick’s back.

“Your muscly shoulder prob’ly made me puke,” Dick murmured.

Jason looked affronted. “My muscly shoulder has nothing to do with your weak ass stomach.”

Tim was waiting for them by the car. “What happened?” he said, rushing up when they appeared.

“Roofied,” Jason replied before Dick could.

Tim looked horrified. “Did anything—”

“Nothing happened,” Dick interrupted. “Can we go?” He’d rather they didn’t accidentally catch the eye of the few reporters still hanging around.

“Course,” Tim said. “Cass and Damian are in the back already. C’mon.”

Cass was standing by the open door when they drew closer. She gave Dick a worried look before helping Jason get him inside, crawling in after him. Damian, who had been staring out the window sullenly – his phone had gotten confiscated – looked up with wide eyes as Dick got in.

“Grayson?” he asked hesitantly. “Is he injured?”

“Drugged,” Cass told him, and Damian’s scowl returned in full force.

“Jason took care of it,” Tim said.

Damian turned to Jason, who took one look at him and grimaced. “I didn’t kill him,” he said.

“Wait, Alfred—” Tim said, and the car stopped moving. “Bruce is coming, too. He messaged in all caps and everything.”

Dick snorted, eyes slipping shut. “What’d Jason say?”

“Dick down. Meet at car ASAP,” Cass read.

“Way to make it sound like I _died_ , Jay.” The dosage seemed to have been quick reacting but low in strength, because Dick could already feel the effects – the dizziness, uncoordinated speech patterns – wearing off.

Jason shrugged. “I was typing one-handed,” he said. “Didn’t want to text a paragraph.”

The door yanked open, and all their heads turned as one to Bruce, who stood there silhouetted in the dim lighting.

“Dick?” Bruce demanded, scanning through the heads in the car before landing on Dick. His voice was barely held together, but the longer he looked, the more confused he became; evidently, Bruce had been expecting pools of blood, fatal wounds and the like.

“Hey, B,” Dick said, raising his head and a couple of fingers before they became too heavy.

“What happened?” he asked, eyes scanning Dick. He climbed into the already over-capacity backseat, sitting opposite Dick.

“Drugged,” three voices said simultaneously.

Bruce’s jaw clenched tighter. He raised a hand to Dick’s throat to feel his pulse, then checked his pupils.

“Who?” he said.

“Don’t worry, old man,” Jason said from the front. “I’m taking care of it.”

Bruce went to say something, but Dick caught his eye and shook his head. Bruce closed his mouth. Then he frowned. “When did you get here?”

Jason snorted. “Been here this whole time,” he said, daring Bruce to question the validity of his words.

Bruce exhaled, letting it go. “I’m glad you were,” he said, moving to sit next to Dick now.

"He was supposed to make a dramatic entrance," Cass said in a pointed voice.

"I was a bit busy saving Goldie."

"I think Todd didn't have a grand entrance in mind," Damian said. 

Jason refused to take the bait. "You'll just have to wait till next time, brat."

“Didn’t even see him put it in the champagne,” Dick murmured once Bruce had tugged Dick’s head down onto his shoulder. “Did it so fast. Had one himself.”

Damian’s eyes flashed dangerously at the overheard words. He attempted to climb through the window separating the front seats, intending to get in on whatever Jason was planning, but Dick caught his sleeve.

“Dami, c’mere,” he said. “No fighting tonight, okay? Jay scared him enough. He didn't even really do anything.”

Bruce grunted, and Dick knew that within an hour of getting home, he would have all the details on Andrew, including his address and a background history.

Damian reluctantly allowed himself to be tugged into Dick’s lap. He’d never had much baby fat, but Dick had always found him easy to hug.

“Dunno where the glass went,” he said to Bruce. He wanted to apologise for not having paid enough attention, for not having a sample of the drug.

Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll do a blood test when we get home,” he said. His voice had, unconsciously, slipped into his Batman growl.

“And to think you didn’t let me bring any gadgets,” Tim said.

Bruce looked at him. “There’s a difference between being prepared for the worst, and bringing along a device to check cheese for fingerprints.”

Tim huffed. “It’d be a good test run.”

“For when?” Damian scoffed.

“For when you get your grubby fingers all over the cheese in the fridge.”

“I do _not!”_

“See? That’s what my thing would prove.”

Dick opened his eyes to glance at Cass, who looked at him in amusement. She had a plate from the gala in hand, piled with finger food, but spent more time fending off Tim than finishing the plate. 

“Boys,” Bruce said tiredly. “I’m sure your brother would like some quiet.”

Dick huffed a breath. “Don’t drag _me_ into this, B. You want them to shut up, you own up to it.”

Bruce apparently glared Tim and Damian into submission, because the rest of the ride was silent, with the occasion _thud_ of dress shoes on shins, before that, too, stopped.

* * *

It was five hours later when Dick was given the all clear, and all he wanted to do, at that point, was fall in bed and sleep. It reallly was unfortunate that his mind was so intent on staying awake.

Dick stared at the ceiling, flat in bed. He was too tired to think through the events of the night logically, but no doubt nightmares would come. He knew that much about himself.

Alfred had left a bottle of water by the bed, still sealed. Dick couldn’t bring himself to open the bottle, because he knew he wouldn’t trust it if he was thirsty in the middle of the night.

Instead, he got out of bed, walked to the bathroom, and drank the water from the tap with cupped hands.

When he came back, Bruce was standing by his bed.

“B?”

Bruce turned. “I came to check how you were doing,” he said. In his hands were two more bottles of water, and a book.

Dick glanced at them, but didn’t ask. “It’s out of my system. I’m just regular tired now.”

Bruce nodded. He stood, there, posture hesitant and uncertain, as Dick clambered back into bed. Moments like this, the similarities between Bruce and Damian struck Dick the hardest. But then Bruce drew the covers back over Dick and tucked him in, the ghost of a fond smile playing over his face as he did so, and the moment passed.

“Is it alright if I stay?” Bruce asked.

_Ah_ , Dick thought. That explained the book.

“Course,” he said out loud, pretending like he wasn’t a grown man in his twenties. “But at least get in next to me. That chair isn’t going to do a thing for your back.”

Bruce grimaced, but conceded. He left a large enough gap between himself and Dick that it was evidently intentional. Dick sighed inwardly, but didn’t get closer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Bruce there, because he _did_. It was just uncomfortable knowing that he would be awake again in a few hours from nightmares; he didn’t want to ruin Bruce’s sleep too.

“What’s the book?”

Bruce showed him the cover. It had a long, silver-haired man on the cover, wielding a sword. _The Last Wish,_ Dick read. “High fantasy. Tim recommended it to me. Apparently the game was quite good.”

Dick knew that the only reason Bruce would pick up something _high fantasy_ and not thriller or true crime was because he’d prefer it now. “Well, if _Tim_ recommended it,” Dick said.

Bruce glanced at him, then opened to the first page, and began reading. Dick let the words wash over him as he curled into the pillow. He didn’t know what nightmares and new stressors dawn or morning would bring, but for now he was okay with lying there beside Bruce, laughing as he stumbled over unfamiliar names.

**Author's Note:**

> whatever dick was drugged with was invented by me to do whatever I needed it to do lol. I avoided using 'roofie' in this a lot bc the symptoms roofies have are a bit different (+ there are a Lot of them)
> 
> yes the book bruce reads to dick in the last scene is #0.5 in the witcher series and i 10/10 recommend. i'm almost halfway through it and it's great
> 
> My bingo card is in the series description if anyone wants to request a square. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Come say hi on [tumblr](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/)!!


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